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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/29526288">Terrors Like These</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/InkDippedFingertips/pseuds/InkDippedFingertips'>InkDippedFingertips</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Series:</b></td><td>Spirits and Cocaine [13]</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Narcos (TV)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Angst, Canon-Typical Violence, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, I CAN'T STOP IT, I'm Sorry, Javi is sweet though, M/M, Nightmares, Panic Attacks, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, the angst is a part of me</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2021-02-18</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2021-02-18</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-15 17:28:40</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Teen And Up Audiences</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>1,073</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/29526288</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/InkDippedFingertips/pseuds/InkDippedFingertips</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>Sleep was an exercise in patience, often interrupted.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Steve Murphy/Javier Peña</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Series:</b></td><td>Spirits and Cocaine [13]</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Series URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/series/2100027</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>8</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>36</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>Terrors Like These</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>Prompt: Nightmares </p><p>*the beginning may remind some people of panic attacks or similar. Please take care of yourselves.</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Steve woke all at once with gunfire echoing in his ears and the sensation of blood on his hands, he opened his eyes wide, gasping for breath…wishing he were dead. The remnants of his dream faded away like a well-loved photograph, even as his body shuddered with the phantom memories of his horror. He couldn’t breathe, chest heaving as he twisted off the sofa and stumbled blindly through the darkened apartment, bile burning his throat, tears stinging in his eyes.</p><p>No time was wasted flicking on the light, choosing instead to throw himself down on the cool floor, arms gripping the edges of the toilet bowl as he dry heaved painfully, entire back arching with the force of it, like he could somehow dispel the grief tightening his chest. Nothing came up, it never did and he rapidly found himself shivering, knees half curled toward his chest, still draped over the foul smelling porcelain, a cold sweat breaking out and making him painfully aware that the only thing he wore was his too thin boxer briefs.</p><p>Pressing a trembling hand against his chest, Steve choked back a sob as his heart galloped behind his ribcage, desperately tried to calm down, only to find himself heaving again. He didn’t want to think about his dream but images swam before his eyes each time he blinked, shadows dancing in the barely there moonlight struggling through the single window.</p><p>“Steve?”</p><p>The sound of his name, spoken in a familiar, aggravated voice caused a full bodied flinch, stomach rolling with the motion. A moment later, before he could muster up the words, the voice to claim he was fine, the bathroom light flooded the small space. He closed his eyes instinctively, hands white knuckling the bowl, head spinning.</p><p>“Ah shit.”</p><p>Although his eyes were half-closed into slits, Steve managed at glance at the doorway, found Javier running a hand through his hair, posture slumped and he’d been through this half a dozen times before but with Connie standing there and for a minute he was struck by how fundamentally different this felt. Steve expected embarrassment to make him want to crawl inside himself and never see the light of day…instead, as Javier stepped closer and crouched beside him, he only felt starved for the other man.</p><p>“I’m sorry,” he managed to choke out. “I’m sorry.” The hand that descended on to his back was large and calloused, rubbing at his skin nice and easy, both different and exactly the same as Connie’s. Despite himself, Steve leaned back a little bit, the warmth of his palm seeping into his chilled skin and thawing the icy throbbing pain inside him. “I didn’t mean to wake you.”</p><p>“Quit apologizing,” Javier muttered gruffly. “I wasn’t sleeping anyway.”</p><p>Steve almost asked why, would do just about anything to distract himself but had enough sense not to start something he couldn’t reciprocate. He forced himself to breath slow and easy, encouraged when Javi’s hand slid up to card through his hair, nails scratching comfortingly along his scalp, his partner patient as can be.</p><p>He didn’t end up puking, didn’t end up sobbing, or having a proper panic attack, all things he’d had before, waking up from nightmares that were just a little too real, a little too vivid and he mentally ticked it off as a good night.</p><p>The entire time, as he sat huddled on the bathroom floor, Javier remained where he was, a slow hum filling the otherwise quiet room, deep, gravelly voice easing him back to the edge of sleep. He didn’t know the song, couldn’t pick it out from any of the other songs Javier took to whistling or murmuring in the office, not that it mattered. Steve would have never pegged his partner as a patient man, was surprised to find that waiting and watching came naturally to him.</p><p>Only when his head started sinking, did he feel Javier’s hand settle firmly on his shoulder, “you ready to get up now?”</p><p>Nodding slowly, he let Javier tug him up, one arm sliding around his waist as they left the bathroom behind, its thin light slicing through the darkness of the living room as they made their way back to the couch. He sunk into the familiar cushions, the place he’d been making his bed most nights in an attempt to avoid his empty apartment and found himself pressing in close to Javier’s side.</p><p>“You know, I can give you the bed for the rest of the night.”</p><p>“Its your bed,” Steve grumbled into the crook of his neck.</p><p>“I’d be happy to share it.”</p><p>He sighed, the sound tired and amused, choosing not to start an argument that they would both end up losing. The thing was…he and Javi were in a strange place, one that felt more like a limbo, like a shoe was waiting to drop because, well they liked each other, clear as day but Steve was married, and Connie was gone, and Escobar was on a rampage and they drank too much for their own good.</p><p>They’d get there eventually but until then, Steve was fine sleeping on Javi’s couch. It was a hell of a lot more comfortable than his own.</p><p>“Was it about your partner?”</p><p>Steve went still, those gunshot thundering in the back of his head, fingers feeling slippery, breath coming a bit faster. Normal things, perfectly normal things and easily managed so long as he didn’t close his eyes, “who told you?”</p><p>Javi shrugged, the movement shifting him a bit, “I was briefed before you arrived that you’d lost a partner…Connie mentioned the nightmares.”</p><p>He huffed a laugh, exhaustion weighing heavy on him, “what? Did you two just gossip all day while I was working?”</p><p>“How else was I supposed to get dirt on you Murphy?”</p><p>“Asshole,” he muttered. “But yeah…his, his name was Kevin.”</p><p>Javier hummed, squeezed his arm, “if you wanna talk about it, you know I’m here.”</p><p>He did know that, hell, there was nothing else in the world Steve could count on but he knew Javier would always be right there, watching his back, even if he did it in the messiest, most complicated way he could, “not tonight, maybe tomorrow.”</p><p>“Alright, then I think its time for bed.”</p><p>This time, Steve didn’t even bother arguing, perfectly happy to be held close in Javier’s arms as he drifted back to sleep.</p>
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